melancholy disposition. These poets were profound students of human nature, and the survey of mankind 'from China to Peru' is ever conducive to sorrowful reflection. Mr. Jones is likewise an observer of his species, and he maintains that his plays are a criticism of life,' even as poetry is—or should be, according to Matthew Arnold; yet Mr. Jones protests vigorously against the imputation of realistic tendencies. He wishes it to be distinctly understood that his plays are designed to be truthful, not realistic. Truth and realism,' he affirms, are distant, and in some respects antagonistic." The playwright's essays are not as lucid as his plots, but he seems to mean that truth is in the spirit which giveth life, and realism in the letter which killeth. A real lamppost on the stage is realism; a striking touch of human nature is truth. How. ever, after all, Mr. Jones's onslaught upon modern realism and his exaltation of truth, one fails to see that, as a dramatist, he has much to do with either. He is a romanticist, in spite of himself. He fights against it, but the spirit of romance is strong within him; his imagination is rampant, and even reading his own essays will never make him truthful-on the stage. This clever and intensely earnest playwright thinks that he is a true prophet because he deals with modern people and latter-day problems; but his principal characters belong as surely to the domain of romance as D'Artagnan or the Sieur de Marsac; for romance is not all of cloak and sword."

CHARACTERISTICS OF FOLK-MELODY.

The poetry of folk-songs has long been properly appreciated, but only recently has the discovery been made that the melodies to which these folk-songs are sung is of great musical value. H. F. Gilbert, in Music, writes about their characteristics and origin:

A

"The origin of these melodies is as mysterious as that of the folk-poems. It is supposed that one of the people, of a more musical nature than the others, originates the melody, which, in course of being sung or played. is adapted to the general idea. distinctive characteristic of a folk-melody is that it is the product of many minds, rather than being the apparent product of one alone. In fact, it possesses nationality rather than individuality. One of the elements which go to compose melody is rhythm; a regular division of time. So, a person performing any kind of labor which requires regularity of movement has one of the elements of a song all ready to hand, and, as to sing is an unborn tendency, he soon supplies the other elements of melody, and there we have a folk song. The work helped to compose the song and now the song helps to do the work by inducing the man to strike or the woman to rock the cradle, in time to the music. While in the field the primitive hunter found that to imitate the calls of birds was a useful acquisition,

and from this sprang a class of folk-melodies which imitate bird-song. Almost every occurrence in the lives of primitive peoples has called into being its own peculiar music, either bright and joyous or dark and lugubrious, as the case might be, but all reflecting the national character with more or less sincerity. Thus, funeral and marriage music, music to accompany various incantations, melodies supposed to possess medicinal qualities, prayermelodies, love-melodies, and melodies to which the historical records of the people were chanted, so that by remembering the melody, one could call to mind the words. This method was also used to assist in remembering the laws. An interesting modern example of the tendency of the people to melodize is to be seen in the street cries of our large cities. Some of them are very characteristic.

We

"There are more folk-melodies to be found in major than in minor. A perfect folk-melody usually contains something which is characteristic of the people from which it springs, and characteristic of them alone, but what this something is is very difficult to define. Evidently, national characteristics do not spring altogether from the kind of scale in which a melody is composed. The melody, "There is a Happy Land," is composed in the Chinese scale, but it does not sound Chinese. Nor do they lie altogether in the rhythm. The Scotch and the Hungarians frequently use the same rhythm, but their respective folk-melodies give one an entirely different impression. Nationality in art is a much-discussed point. Both sides have many able and learned adherents. We may safely conclude, however, that national flavor in music is an indisputable fact. do not care te how many other causes the difference in their music can be assigned, the difference in the rationality of men certainly plays no small part in causing an ultimate difference in their music. The fountain-head of nationality in music is to be found in the folk melodies. The folk-melodies are very near to the people; they spring from the heart of the nation; and thus contain the musical essence of nationality. Many musical composers have appreciated this fact, and in their endeavors to give national flavor and meaning to their music have searched out and studied the national musical spirit, as evinced in their nation's folk-melodies, and have taken this beautiful wild flower to their hearts, and loved it, developed it, and wrought over it, until a noble symphony was produced, which is as much a national product as the folk-melody, although it required the thought, energy, and technique, so to speak, of the cultivated musician to give it form and being.'

RATIONAL DRESS AND EXERCISES FOR

ADAPTATION.

Miss Lydia J. Newcomb restates the essentials of healthful dress, and outlines seasonable exercises for adapting it to the body, in Health-Culture for February:

"First and for all seasons, the union suit. This can be obtained in all styles and qualities and at prices no higher than for the two pieces. Over this the equestrienne tights, and, if more warmth is needed for the upper part of the body, a woven vest. These garments can both be obtained in black. This gives the needed warmth and equalizes the weight over the entire body. Then a light-weight skirt-silk, sateen, any material so it is not heavy-may be added, and we are ready for the dress. This skirt,

however, must be put on a well fitted yoke, not a band, so the weight will not be felt. The ideal dress is made in one piece, and surely nothing is more graceful. It may be trimmed to simulate any preferred style excepting a plain front; this must be avoided. Short-waisted dresses are always pretty and becoming, especially to young people, the short waist giving the longer line below, which is always more artistic. As outlined here, all the objectionable features of conventional dress are done away with,-straps, bands, and bones. Dressed in this way, one can not fail to be comfortably dressed, and with a little attention to the style of trimming, neatly and becomingly dressed. Sometimes, however, before one can adapt herself to this style of dress, it is necessary that the muscles about the waist be developed; for, while it is true that one can not take physical exercise with benefit until properly dressed, it is equally true that when one has depended for years upon an outside support, it takes some time to bring one's bones and muscles to a condition where they will do the work without rebelling. For that reason, we give some exercises for those who wish to adopt the more rational style of dress.

1. Knead Ribs. Place hands as close under arms and as far back as possible, and press sides forward with palms of hands; release pressure and throw back with muscular effort. Do this between arms and waist-line.

2. Waist-Movements. Bend forward and backward; from side to side; turn to right; turn to left; hips perfectly quiet. Bend forward and roll upper part of body, starting toward the left, toward the right, hips perfectly quiet. Let head go with body.

3. Hip Movements. Bend at hips, no other part of body yielding. To do this, head and shoulders must be kept well back and knees stiff.

4. Drop knees slightly, and, keeping knees and shoulders quiet, roll lower part of body; i. e., push it forward to right, backward to left, etc.

5. Lie flat on floor, face downward, hands under chest, and raise body until only forearms and toes touch floor, keeping body as nearly flat as possible.

6. Lie on back, while keeping upper part of body quiet, with knees stiff and feet together, raise legs until at right angle to body.

7. Lie on back, while keeping lower part of body quiet, rise to a sitting-position.

Study yourself to see if you are in perfect position. Take a side view in your

mirror. A line should pass through ear, shoulder, hip, and instep."

A GREAT AMERICAN COMPOSER.

A sketch of E. A. MacDowell, the American composer, is contributed to the Century by Henry T. Finck, the New York musical critic. MacDowell received his education abroad, yet Mr. Finck says:

"Considering that he obtained his musical education chiefly in France and in Germany, his compositions are, as a rule, remarkably free from definite foreign influences, except such traits as apply to music the world over. Some of them will doubtless mark the beginning of a real American school of music which, like American literature, will combine the best foreign traits with features indigenous to our soil. Cosmopolitanism is the essence of American life, and cosmopolitanism was the keynote of Mr. MacDowell's musical training. Mr. MacDowell is a virtuoso of the highest rank, but he puts emotion above brilliancy. He has the rare gift of bringing tears to the listeners' eyes with a single modulation or a few notes of melody -a gift that is associated, in the minds of educated hearers, only with genius. He has his moods, and is very sensitive to the quality of his audience, playing better in proportion to the sympathy manifested by the hearers. Were he to devote himself to the piano exclusively, Paderewski might have to look to his laurels, but his extreme nervousness makes him prefer composing and teaching. He is original, not imitative. He avoids studying the great masters, preferring to think for himself. Mr. MacDowell's concertos and orchestral pieces (among which are the symphonic poems Hamlet and Ophelia,' dedicated to Sir Henry Irving; Lancelot and Elaine,' Lamia,' The Saracens and Lovely Alda,' In October,' and two suites) have, indeed, been played frequently in most of the foreign musical centres and acknowledged as the best music that has come from across the ocean, while the committee that offered him the professorship at Columbia University justly stated that they considered him the greatest musical genius America has produced. Anton Seidl has declared him a greater composer than Brahms, and I myself am convinced that, with the exception of Paderewski, none of the young composers now in Europe holds out such brilliant promises as MacDowell, who seems destined to place America musically on a level with Europe."

WANTED: A WORLD LANGUAGE.

A plea for the use of a common language is made by Prof. J. P. Mahaffy in the Nineteenth Century, in a striking article on the "Modern Babel." Nations, he says, lose touch of each other, and a terrible waste of time and of labor is involved in the effort of learning several languages. English is regarded as the most fit for a world-language. Prof. Mahaffy says:

In spite of the stupid indifference of our rulers, who will not see that language is one of the great sources of a nation's influence, English enterprise and English trade make it perfectly impossible for any other nation to impose its language on the world. From this aspect we may include under English the great Republic of the West, which not only speaks English all over North America, but also leavens the cargoes of foreigners that arrive almost daily at our ports, and insist that, whatever may be their nationality or speech, they shall accommodate themselves to the condition of understanding and speaking English. If we add to the influence of the United States that of the English colonies all over the world, the preponderance of English is so great that we only wonder why our language has not long since become not only the trading language, but the language of common intercourse throughout the nations of the world. That it will become so in time is very probable, if English commerce and English wealth continue to expand at their present rate."

Spelling, however, is a serious obstacle, and the professor says that the pedants, in examinations and in critiques, lay tremendous stress on strict adhesion to our unphonetic and irrational spelling. Shall we then follow Sir Isaac Pitman ? "As a new system, no.' But if every literary man would do a little to modify our spelling slightly in a more phonetic direction—as in "rime," "rythm,' "sovran," and perhaps "tho' "-a_great change would soon be made. "The real and only object for the present generation is to accustom the vulgar English public to a certain indulgence or laxity of spelling, so that gradually we may approach-I will not say phonetic-a reasonably consistent orthography.'

A further expedient, which the ancient Greeks adopted after their "common dialect" came into use, is recommended by the professor,-accents on words.

Why not adopt the same device as regards English? I have known many a British traveler puzzled in Ireland because he was ignorant of the accents on our proper names. Why not, therefore, write Drógheda,' Athenry,' Achónry,' Athy,' etc., and save trouble? Then why not gradually and

tentatively distinguish by accents though' and 'tough,' plágue' and 'ágúe,' according to any system which may be found most simple and convenient? A paragraph at the opening of the grammar would be sufficient to explain it."

A SUGGESTION TO DRAMATISTS.

The passion for originality and its detrimental effects on the drama is a text delightfully treated by "The Point of View" in Scribner's. A distinction is drawn between what is novel and what is original in literature and in art. We quote:

"Why should not the dramatist, while poets and novelists are quarreling about who did this or that first, set them all a good example by appropriating their best ideas to

his own uses? The benefits of such an example and such practice would be twofold: The dramatist who did appropriate would not be confined too closely to his original; and the dramatist who had constructive ability, but lacked imagination, would have an abundant source of new material opened to him. The dramatizer pure and simple would be out of a job, but that would only mean that he would have to grow more skilful or go under. Dramatizations in cold blood might become obsolete. Instead, the capable playmaker, freeing himself from literal tradition, as the translator of Omar freed himself from the bonds of his Persian, might invest his version with the attributes not of a copy but of a new original. The critics, meanwhile, would not have to bother themselves about the playbook and the story book at once, as they have often to do now, to the demoralization of themselves and their principles. Instead of dramatizations done anonymously, from sources almost as vaguely accredited in the playbills, or thrown hastily together to fill the demands of the moment, there might more frequently be reputable attempts at real dramatic workmanship. The public would have the advantage, which is perhaps its due anyway, of seeing a story on the stage told by as skilful or at any rate as relatively important a person as was the first teller of the story in the book. Mr. Grundy, or Mr. Pinero, or Mr. Howard, if by any chance their own proper ideas ran out, would be the people to whom we owed the stage Manxmen, Trilbys, and My Lady Rothas of the hour.

"Once these new uses of the inexhaustible stores of fiction were realized, what would not be the boon to undiscovered dramatists now undeservedly kept silent? The world, which has never insisted that a composer of music should be his own librettist, might more readily grant the same privileges to the composer in stage-craft."

WAGNER AND THE VOICE.

Melba's abandonment of the role of Brunhilde and her retirement for the season have revived the old controversy as to the effect of Wagner's music on the voices of operatic singers. The controversy has been very animated and vigorous, and the differences are as irreconcilable as ever. Some of the letters of leading singers and musicians, contributed to the New York Journal, are given below. Mme. Melba states:

"As strong as I find the role of Brunhilde, I do not intend singing it again, at least for some years. My reason for this decision is my belief that in singing it often, there would be danger of injuring my voice. My opinion is confirmed by the advice of those whom I consider good authority. I wish it to be understood that I say this only in ref erence to my individual case, and that I do not assume to give advice to other artists on this subject."

Mme. Nordica writes:

. It is a source of wonder to me that this question should have attracted such serious consideration and plausible contention in view of the perfectly obvious facts close at hand that would seem to forbid discussion. Did not the Messrs. de Reszké and myself sing Wagner musically last season? Have either they or I suffered any ill in consequence? Does not the long, arduous, and unfailingly successful careers of such Wagnerian singers as Materna, Lehmann, Klafsky, and Brandt overthrow the notion that some persons seem so determined to establish that the peerless master's music means sure and speedy hurt to the vocal organization? In truth, I can not recall any great singer who has suffered from repeated appearances in Wagnerian roles. Wagner's music never injured anyone who could sing it, and who knew how. To know howthat means much thought, much study, much work. The effort involved I would not for a moment seem to depreciate; but that the effort is too severe, if the conditions be proper, that I gainsay insistently. I have known many beautiful voices, on the other hand, ruined by trying to master Donizetti, Bellini, and Gounod. As to the virtue and the import of Wagner's work—surely we have got beyond discussing that."

Mme. Eames-Story has this to say:

“It is humanly impossible for one singer to say what music will or will not fatigue another singer. One can speak only from the standpoint of one's own personal experience. Wagner's music is a great strain upon one's emotional and nervous temper ament. That is why one must go slowly in taking up Wagnerian roles for study or for interpretation. As one gets older in one's career, and more experienced, one can progressively essay heavier and heavier roles, provided one has the volume and the quality of voice appropriate to these parts. It has been my plan and my hope to do so. It is only, I think, when a woman shall have arrived at the highest stage of artistic and physical development of which she is capable that she should try such parts as Brunhilde and Isolde. Though I can hardly contain my impatience to attempt them,

feel that I am still too young to stand the nervous and physical strain, although I am convinced, from the study I have already given them, that they would in no way fatigue my voice. When one has before one such inspiring work to do, one's ambition can never flag; but I wish to approach these heavier roles slowly and with all reverence."

health or whose voice is naturally feeble. For artists who are sure of themselves-like Jean and Edouard de Reszké, for example -such parts would be nothing but beneficial vocally."

Jean and Edouard de Reszké are enthusiastic Wagnerians, but the "other side" is presented in the subjoined bitter attack by George Sweet, a famous baritone singer of Italian roles :

"Those who call to mind the fate of Materna, Alvary, Niemann, Schott, and other singers who have devoted their careers to Wagner will not underestimate the importance of Melba's act. Not even Schott, with his hard, steel-like voice, could stand the strain of the heavy Wagner roles. The result of the constant forcing of the voice demanded by these roles is to weaken the membranes of the pharynx. This means loss of power to produce the effects of light and shade-the two principal essentials in all manifestations of art. Without them it is impossible for a voice to indicate, musically, the emotions of the human heartwhich is the function of the lyric artist. I know of no one who has sung persistently in the Wagner cycle operas for half a dozen years that does not drop from the key the moment he attempts to modulate his voice for the expression of the softer emotions. The heaviest roles of Verdi, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Mozart, and other masters, who recognize that the singers represent the characters in the drama, and that the characters are the centre of interest, may be persistently sung without fear of any such diraster to the voice. It is not a question of the genius of Wagner as a musician, but of his failure, in certain of his operas, to recognize the limitations of the human voice."

CARE OF THE COMPLEXION.

Good health is always held to be the prerequisite of a good complexion. For local treatment, available to women who appear in public and who recognize the necessity of it, the following hints from Miss E. Marguerite Lindley, quoted in the New York Times, are apropos :

"No amount of good taste in dress will conceal a bad complexion, and there are hygienic measures which can be adopted to preserve a fine skin and soft, firm outlines to the face. The practice which has been called facial gymnastics' is a deadly enemy to good looks. Irritating washes, plasters, masks, and poultices are also dangerous. When more of the tissue is removed than the economy of nature will allow rebuilt quickly and easily, the result will be a wornout skin. There may be found exceptional cases, but there are few of them. Internal

remedies are even more dangerous, and the advice of the family physician should be asked before taking amateur prescriptions. Dread and worry and the fear of old age often precipitate the evil it is hoped to avert.

Thoughts have much to do with facial attractiveness. Living in ill-ventilated rooms, a bad digestion, insufficient clothing, and thin-soled shoes have much to do with destroying the texture of the skin. Contraction of the muscles with cold is followed by deepening of the lines of the face and coarsening of the pores.

Under ordinary conditions, the face needs washing but once a day, and that in the morning. A rotary motion with the hands during the bath is excellent. A stoop ing position over the basin is bad for the muscles of the face.. The face should be held erect during manipulation. The face should be dried with a soft towel, also with a rotary motion. Oily skin may be improved by frequent manipulation. It helps to normalize the pores. The movement should be upward and outward. A paste of fine table salt is excellent for a healthy skin, but should not be used under other conditions. It

should be moistened with milk or water. Rub it well over the face, not oftener than once a week; wash off thoroughly, and dry with a soft towel. This sandpapers off some of the cuticle and stimulates the papillæ and capillary circulation. and promotes a healthy condition.

"Correct manipulation of the face every night for twenty or thirty minutes, a little cream made of some vegetable oils with a simple astringent being first rubbed in, is excellent. Rotation at the base of the nose and over the nostrils is valuable, as the muscles in that part of the face are apt to become enlarged and ugly. In connection with this, not oftener than once a week, the complexion will be benefited by washing the face in hot soap-and-water and then rinsing in cold water, and drying with a rotary motion on a soft towel. A touch of cream can be used, if the washing has left the face too dry."

WE

WE speak words to express our thoughts. These thoughts contain ideas. An idea is something about which we can think. It may be a person, a place, an act, the manner of doing the act, the time of the occurrence of the act, the possession of an object, existence, etc.

If you wish to speak of yourself you may say, "I," and if anyone is present and can see you or hear you, and recognize your voice, your identity is assured. However, if you write "I" on a blackboard, or on a piece of paper and go away, no one will be able to say to whom it refers. This necessitates signing your name, which may have two or three or four words in it, as " John Smith," or " John James White," or "Šamuel J. W. Black. These groups of words indicate the person, just as "I" does, and we call them word groups. Therefore, we may express ideas by single words and by word-groups. If you wish to tell the time of day, you may say "now," and the person to whom you speak would have some idea of the time, but the exact hour and minute would not be known. Again, write the word 64 now," and the person seeing it could have no idea of the time, so that a group of words must be employed to convey it, as "ten minutes past four.' This group of words expresses definitely the time, and is a word group; consequently, it must be spoken clearly and distinctly as a word of four syllables.

Stars shine." In this sentence of two words there are two ideas-the things spoken of, stars, and what is stated with regard to them, they shine. A period ends the sentence, but in reading it there must be a pause made after stars." "A bird sang

there." This sentence contains three ideas --the bird, what it did-sang-and where it did it-there. "The dear little yellow bird sang on the branch of a tree." Here again we have three ideas, also-what sang, where and the act. There are more words used to express the first and the last ideas. Three ideas, but twelve words ( The dear little yellow bird") what sang and ("on the branch of a tree"), where it sang. It is as if we held up a diamond with one face cut on it, then one with five or six faces; we can see much more in the one than the other, and still see but one diamond in each. "That little girl fell on the hard pavement." In this sentence there are eight words, each of which has a meaning as it stands alone, and yet they are all required to express three ideas, and as we read ideas, not words, they must be so grouped that three ideas are expressed. This is done by making a pause after "girl" and after fell." In writing the sentence, however, there would be but the period at the end. We call the pauses rhetorical or

sense-pauses.

In all words of more than one syllable, one or more syllables must be accented, as "a'gain'," "amen'." In word groups it is necessary to accent one or more of the parts in order to express the idea properly; e. g., Birds sing (in the tree), but boys play (under the tree)." "The cat is (on the barrel), and the bird is (in the barrel), and the mat is (under the barrel)." "(Very little boys) play (in the yard), but (large ones) go to (the parks)." In placing the accent correctly on a word, you must be guided by the dictionary, but in word-groups by the

sense.